


Frame By Frame

by Reighost



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Don't Like Don't Read, F/F, F/M, Fluff, I'll add more tags if you suggest them., M/M, Not A Time Loop., Romance, Slow Burn, So Slow Its Like A Slow Roast, Time Travel, slash., super slow burn, yes this is slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 08:18:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15092834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reighost/pseuds/Reighost
Summary: Prompto Argentum had a plan and he was finally going to make friends with Prince Noctis… too bad he never counted on gaining the memories of his thirty year old self. Timetravel!Prompto. Promptis! Yes I’m going here, this bunny would not leave me alone.





	Frame By Frame

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve been wanting to do a fic like this for the longest time, since I finished the game. I love my boy Prompto to itsy bitty little pieces. To show how much I love him, I decided to demonstrate it, and what better way to show how much I love him is there than by throwing him face-first into trouble?
> 
> Other writers know what I mean, eh?
> 
> The end was bullshit, so I wrote my own. Which is the beginning of a new story. My own version of New Game Plus. 8D Comments and suggestions are very welcome and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter and future chapters.

Prompto Argentum had it all planned out.

He’d finally deemed himself worthy. He was as fit and healthy as he was going to get, as fashionable as he could make himself and his carefully constructed confidence and charisma were at its peak. The countless hours spent learning how to style his newly cut hair weren’t wasted and now he could hardly recognize himself in the mirror. He had totally transformed himself.

He might have shot himself in the foot by pushing himself too hard to be perfect the year before, but he’d learned his lesson. He’d brought his grades up _too_ high then and ended up being pushed up and out of Noctis’s grade. Instead of entering into his final year of Middle School he’d gone straight to his first year of High school. His teachers had been thrilled at his work ethic and hadn’t understood why he hadn’t wanted to be moved up to high school a year earlier _._ He’d been _devastated_. In the end he hadn’t been able to come up with a justifiable reason to refuse the offered scholarship that didn’t make him sound like some kind of crazily obsessed fanboy.  

Something might have gone wrong somewhere in his plan, but it wasn’t completely unsalvageable. He’d learned his lesson in studying too hard and had thrown himself head-first into studying his _classmates_ instead, like hell he was going to be moved up _another_ grade.

Adopting his peer’s carefree attitude and picking apart their charm took a while but it gave him something to focus on while he waited out the year. He was now up to date on what was cool and what wasn’t, the latest trends, what made popular people popular, what the best games were and his scores at the arcade were nothing to scoff at.

Waiting a year for Noctis to join him at his new school was totally better than kissing his chances of a friendship with the Prince goodbye over being labelled as something that he wasn’t. He wasn’t a fanboy, he wasn’t like that at _all_! He was a _friend-in-waiting_. He was a _best_ friend-in-waiting. He didn’t collect memorabilia like _they_ did, he only had a handful of pictures of Noctis and he’d taken those _himself_.

He would make things work. This was when his life was going to change. This was his time to shine, the true beginning of his high school life. This would be last day he would be friendless and alone.

Last year’s uniform had been packed away in plastic bags, ready to be donated to the thrift shop along with the majority of his old clothes and he had a brand new wardrobe of clothes waiting for him to use. He had enough contact lenses to last him for at least a year and he’d retired his glasses to the same drawer in his desk as Lady Lunafreya’s letter, kept as a morale-boosting memento of all of the hard work he’d put into himself. He would be getting Lasik eye surgery as soon as he was old enough for it!

He gave the latest in the series of time-lapse photos he’d of himself a satisfied grin, the result couldn’t have been better. Once upon a time he’d been too ashamed of his own body to pose like this in his underwear, but now after three years and more of hard, physical work he could stand up straight-backed and proud… in the privacy of his own bedroom. With the curtains closed. Because he wasn’t an exhibitionist.

Prompto looked _good_ and he would only look better in the morning with his hair styled and in his tailored-to-fit uniform. Dancing over to his computer he saved the picture to the album he’d created when he’d first started his journey of self-improvement and printed it out. He boogied all the way out into the kitchen where he pinned the new picture of himself next to the one he’d taken right at the start and flushed, utterly pleased with himself and finally feeling at home in his own skin.

Catching sight of the clock Prompto bounced back to his room and gave everything one last check-over before he called it a night. His school bag with his summer homework already packed inside was sitting on his desk, ready to pick up and go. His stylish new running clothes were draped over the back of his chair and his brand new sneakers were unboxed and sitting next to a fresh pair of socks. His camera’s battery was charged full, as was his cell phone.

“Perfect~! Can’t get any readier than this~!”

Flipping over his headboard into bed he wriggled under his blankets, he’d be able to run off most of his nerves in the morning, he was sure of it. Setting his alarm clock Prompto sat it within reach and reached for the remote control to turn off the lights with a dab and smothered his excitement into his pillow.

Noctis wasn’t going to know what hit him.

OoO

Dawn.

Weak morning sunlight filtered in through clouds in patched streaks that ran across the Citadel’s broken courtyard and the ten years’ worth of damage the darkness had wrought was revealed in perfect and painful detail. Fractured and charred pavement. Toppled, dented and bent lamp posts, some sheared off in the middle. Shattered glass littered the path leading up into the monolithic building and every window within sight was damaged, smashed and fragmented.

The only sounds he could hear were the waning echoes of his last shot ricocheting off demolished walls, brick and mortar, and the fading shrieks of daemons dying in the first light of day. The skitter of rock as Prompto stumbled, shielding himself from the abrupt brightness, seemed amplified by the growing silence.

When he went to banish his gun back into the Armiger it fumbled out of his grip instead, and clattered to the ground like a Wall-breaker was up and running. The magic was refusing to answer his call.

Fear and dread washed down his back like ice.

A roaring filled his ears as he forced himself to move out of the petrified state he found himself in. In his panic it took him two attempts before he managed to pick up his gun and make sure his numb and fumbling fingers had a good grip on it. As soon as it was securely in hand he reeled for the Citadel.

Ignis and Gladio were in the distance, physically they seemed okay, but he could see Iggy was crying. On his knees, utterly broken and Gladio was just staring up at the sky, numb and non-functional. Prompto couldn’t deal with them right now, he wanted to but his heart was bleeding, so he lurched past them.

He didn’t want to, but he had to check. He just couldn’t _accept_ this. Surely the gods couldn’t be so cruel as to keep Noctis away from them so soon after getting him _back_. After everything they’d been through, the years of pain and darkness, everything everyone had gone through to bring him back. They would _return_ him like they had before, right?

Staggering up the stairs to the Citadel let himself in through the open doors and to the lifts. The doors groaned as they opened and he threw himself in, hitting the button for the throne room and leaning his aching head against the darkened and tarnished doors.  He pitched forward when they opened again on the right level and it was only ingrained instinct that had him catching himself one-handed on the ground. He was barely strong enough to push himself back up before he could bodily hit the floor, but he managed it, and soon he was blundering back into the throne room.

The chained bodies Ardyn had strung up along the rafters of the throne room were missing. The Crystal was crumbling and breaking apart as he watched, collapsing in on its own cavity and raining bits and pieces of itself and its chains on the empty throne beneath it.

The _empty_ throne.

Prompto tripped himself up in his urgency to get there, once again caught himself on his hands and crawled up the stairs leading up on his hands and knees, uncaring of the bruises and scrapes he was picking up. Frantic hands pushed away rubble as a wild hope ignited in his heart. “N-Noct?” he coughed out, searching for any sign of his friend. The room was empty. Noctis wasn’t _there_ ,  that meant he had to have gotten up and… something red glittered off the crystal shards littering the seat and arms of the throne. He swept away the crystal debris littering the throne, ran a deliberate hand down the back of the throne and— his fingers came away wet with blood.

Rearing back in horror Prompto pushed himself away and to his feet, belatedly realizing he’d crawled through pool of blood and was now crusted with bits of marble, red-tinged crystal and fine grey ash.

No.

He tore himself away from the— the mess on the floor. Noct was injured. That’s what was going on. He’d probably gotten up to go get help. They’d probably just missed each other. He’d probably already met up with Ignis or Gladio and was in the middle of being patched up the good, old-fashioned way with the medical kit Iggy had brought along, ‘Just in case’.

The trip back down to the courtyard felt like it lasted forever, but when the doors opened the hope of seeing his buddy gave him a burst of energy. He was out in the sunshine and— Okay, Noct _wasn’t_ with Iggy and Gladio, but that just meant he was taking his sweet time getting back to them.

**_“N—NOCT! WE’RE OVER HERE!”_** he called out as if they had just finished up a hunt and his friend was a warp out of sight, injecting as much casual cheer into his voice as he could. **_“C—C’MON MAN, TIME TO CELEBRATE!”_**

“P—prom—” Ignis choked with a broken and desperate edge to his voice and tried again. _“Prompto!”_

“He wasn’t _there_ Iggy! He’s not there! There’s _nothing_ there so he has to be out here somewhere! We just have to find him!” He shrugged off his attempts to pull him down to where he was by his arm and tried to pull him up instead. Iggy refused to cooperate and covered his face with a shaking hand instead. “Come on, we gotta find him. I swear if he’s napping somewhere I’m gonna _Noct_ him a new one!”

Iggy wouldn’t be budged so he moved onto Gladio, he pushed the man in the middle of the back and tried to move him, but it was like trying to move a boulder, the man didn’t even give an inch. Gladio’s shoulders shook and the hands that were resting on the hilt of the sword he had planted into the tarmac were white with how tight he was gripping it. “ _Move_ man, you gotta help me look while I—”

Prompto flinched back as the man released his sword to swing his arm around and tried to duck, but he was exhausted and clumsy with it, however the hit he was expecting to take never landed. Instead Gladio’s bruised and bleeding hands grasped fistfuls of the front of his shirt and he was being roughly tugged forward and crushed up against his brother’s chest in an engulfing and unexpected embrace.

“O-Okay big guy, not that I don’t appreciate it, but now is _not_ the time!” Prompto said as he tried to wriggle his way out of the grasp. “We gotta— **_UMBRA!_** ” Prompto hit a fist against Gladio’s shoulder when the man didn’t take the hint to let him go. “Seriously, let me go! It’s Umbra! He can find Noct for us! **_UMBRA! COME HERE BOY!”_**

Gladio’s arms slackened and Prompto was free to trip and stagger over to where he’d caught sight of the dog-shaped Messenger. Umbra, who had curled up at the base of the stairs of the Citadel to bask in the sun, looked up as he dropped to a knee and greeted him with a wagging tail.

“Hey boy, good boy, who’s a good boy. Wanna help us find Noct? Yeah?” Prompto crooned, carding hands through the dog’s immaculate fur.

Umbra boofed, got up and began running.

Prompto lunged after him, wobbling and floundering after him in a manner reminiscent of the last time he’d seen Pryna. He wasn’t being led out of an illusion this time, instead it felt like he was being led _into_ one, but he didn’t care, if it led him to Noctis he’d go anywhere Umbra led him!

The world around him dissolved and wavered, and he saw shadows of his friend as he passed through a confusing array of locations. He was walking through the tunnel leading away from the Citadel and then suddenly he was walking through the halls of Zegnatus Keep. From there he was running through the carriages of a train. Next was Altissia, at one moment in ruins and then the next bright and lively with music and laughter.

It was like Umbra was leading him in a backwards tour of all of the significant places they had stopped through on their journey until they were finally on the steps of the Citadel again. Only… everything was as it used to be. The shadow of Noctis he kept seeing was walking down to the Regalia. Ignis and Gladio a step behind him and a vision of his younger self dipping a hasty bow to the King before bouncing along after them. Umbra didn’t let him pause to drink in the sight of his friends whole and unburdened, but instead bounded past them and it was all he could do to swallow down the emotions building up in his throat so he could see where he was being led next.

Next was a dizzying array of heart-aching snippets of familiar places. The Crownsguard training facilities. Noctis’s apartment. The bar they would go to after a long day’s training. Every haunt and hidey-hole in Crown City they’d ever visited. The arcade where they’d basically wasted away their youth. The shopping mall. The Kenny’s Diner they had spent hours playing Justice Monsters. Their high school. Finally Prompto was led to the only place he didn’t share a single significant memory of Noctis with.

His childhood home.

The door didn’t magically open like every other place he’d been led to. Umbra pawed at the door and let himself in when Prompto opened it and lead an unwavering path to his bedroom, even though he’d never brought the dog to his house before in his life.

“I— why did you bring me here Umbra, we’re supposed to be looking for Noct!”

Lost, bewildered, and a little betrayed, he followed the dog through his old home, stuck for the first time how… empty it was. He had often felt lonely here, but it never seemed _empty_ , not really. It was his home. But now, after ten years in the world, he looked at it and felt cold. It was sterile, it was bare, devoid of warmth and personality.

His own room was a riot of things and colours, it never really occurred to him that it was because the rest of the house felt so... barren. It was a place he had slept, and nothing more. It even smelled the same, he realised with a gut churning twist of discomfort. He had forgotten that horrible 'fresh cotton' air-freshener plug in that called the hallway home.

The room was frozen in a snapshot of time he could never forget. The date on the calendar. The particular way everything was set up. He knew that if he were to look in the attic he’d see all the things he’d packed away the night before making friends with Noctis. All the self-help books. The toys and trinkets that he’d deemed too childish to keep, never knowing that his would-be-friend was just as much, if not worse, of a nerd than he was. The set of Assassin’s Creed figurines hidden behind the few books he’d allowed himself to keep because he couldn’t bring himself to pack them away after winning them in a contest. The shelf with boxes of spare parts, screwdrivers, wire cutters and loose screws that was the result of his hobby of buying broken electronics and fixing them up for resale.

Umbra whined for attention at his feet and Prompto met his gold eyes and saw a question in them as clearly as if the Messenger had spoken it aloud.

_Would you do it again, knowing what you know now?_

“In a heartbeat.” Was his wretched, heartfelt reply as tears blurred his vision. “Over and over again, no matter how many times it would take. I just want him _back!”_

The world around him rippled at his answer and the world dropped out from under his feet, sending him falling through the floor and into what felt like an endless void. Umbra’s gold eyes were two glowing specks of light that fading into the distance the further he fell.

Until suddenly he wasn’t falling anymore, he hadn’t fallen.

A jolt and his limbs were abruptly trapped. The sensation was violent, something akin to a nightmare of falling off of a great height and waking up just before hitting the bottom. The next thing he knew he was spasming on a mattress he could have sworn he’d _phased_ through. His heart was hammering a sharp staccato and fear overrode all thought processes until his hands found purchase on the sheets underneath his palms and he had something solid to hold onto.

Wrestling out of the blankets he was trapped in he pushed himself up off the bed, blanched at the previously pristine sheets and abandoned his gun in his haste to fling himself away. Pale blue sheets were now stained with grit, dirt and… blood. Smudged in various shades of red.

There was no way he was staying in his clothes for a second longer, he couldn’t get out of them fast enough. He ripped off his jacket and threw it over the... dirt. His boots followed and he wrestled himself out of his clothes until he was left in his underwear. His shirt, gloves and pants were banished to the spot on his childhood bed he’d fallen on and his blanket pulled over it all to hide it.

It wasn’t until he was pressed bodily up against his cupboard that he realized the world around him lacked the wavering dream-like quality of the path Umbra had led him through in their search. His surroundings were eerily solid, almost like he was sitting in a replication of his bedroom as it had been once-upon-a-time. A perfect slice of the day he’d reintroduced himself Noctis, ruined only by his own presence and the uniform very literally staining the atmosphere.

A skitter caught his attention and Umbra’s fluffy tail was disappearing around the open door of his bedroom.

“Umbra! **_Wait!_** ”

Prompto lunged after the Messenger, his had been a pit-stop? Didn’t matter, he followed the dog back through the path they’d taken to get into the house, down the stairs, past the kitchen and dining room, into hallway and pushed out of the still open front door into—

Weak, early morning sunshine.

Umbra was nowhere in sight, the front door of his house shut behind him with a very final sounding click and he noticed several things wrong with his surroundings at once.

A crisp, fresh breeze sweeping through the street, and he realized he was essentially standing out in the open in nothing but his underwear. It was something that wouldn’t exactly have bothered him had he been standing in what had been left of Insomnia after the invasion and ten years of darkness but— he wasn’t standing in those ruins.

He wasn’t standing in those ruins.

He wasn’t standing in ruins.

Insomnia was _whole_.

The places Umbra had led him through before had been empty, static and frozen in time. The street he was standing on wasn’t. Pale pink cherry blossoms floated on the breeze. Cars honked in the distance. He could hear birds chirping, leaves rustling and people talking. It was like someone had pressed a button and had restarted the world from the moment he’d stepped out of the house.

Prompto felt his vision begin to spot around the edges and sank to the ground as the strength to stand left him. Recognizing the signs of an impending blackout he pushed himself backwards until he met the cool wood of his front door and curled up around himself.

“Prompto?!” A woman’s voice gasped and suddenly he was feeling sick to the stomach as well. The elderly woman rounding the fence pulled off her shawl and approached him like he was a wild, injured animal. “What _happened_?” She practically leaped forward to comfort him, the scratchy wool of her shawl wrapping around his naked and shaking shoulders.

This was no fever dream, omen or one of Ardyn’s illusions. Avia Sauvis had died when Insomnia had fallen, or at least she hadn’t been among any of the refugees that had flooded Lestallum. Ardyn wouldn’t have known enough about his elderly neighbour to copy her face, voice and manner this accurately.

Umbra’s unspoken question came back to him and suddenly, he understood exactly what had happened. He’d been offered another chance and… he’d unwittingly taken it. Now everything that had happened in the last decade and a half had been unmade. Including every last relationship he’d forged in the intervening years.

Curling up into the warmth of his elderly neighbour’s embrace Prompto pressed his face into her shoulder and—

Burst into tears.

There was no stopping the flood, not even when Avia pulled out her phone to call the Crownsguard and paramedics. He allowed himself to be comforted and curled up into her arms as if he were still the teen she thought she was comforting.

He never would have imagined a second chance would be this painful.


End file.
